Classic Poem

In a world so full of sorrow,
Why should we more troubles borrow?
Why be anxious for the morrow?

Anxious thought and dark foreboding
Evermore the heart o'erloading, —
Ever gnawing and corroding, —

Cast them off, and trust the Power
Which protects the bird and flower
When the angry tempests lower.

Darkest storm-clouds, earth distressing,
Oft are wrapped around the blessing
Which sweet angels are caressing.

When it falls, the startling thunder
Seems to rend the heavens asunder,
But the angels smile with wonder.

For the earth, so barren, dreary,
And the birds, so parched and weary,
All at once look bright and cheery.

With new life the flowers grow younger;
All their fragile stems grow stronger,
And their fragrance lasts the longer.

All the freshened woods are ringing
With the songs the birds are flinging
Heavenward in their rapturous singing.

Why, then, dread the coming hour,
Or the cloud that holds the shower?
Why not trust the loving Power?

He who loves the flowers so,
Helps the lowliest lily grow,
Doth not He thy dangers know?

Will thy Father on the Throne
All His lesser creatures own,
And leave thee to go alone?

He who hears the birdlings cry,
And to shield them bends the sky,
Watches thee with sleepless eye.

Be not anxious for the morrow,
Banish trouble, pleasures borrow,
Borrow sunshine and not sorrow.

From the Present take Joy's measure,
From the Past call hoarded treasure,
Send forth Hope for Future's pleasure.